Our generation is as fond of forecasts as the scribes around Jesus were of signs.

So these days we have Jonas, even in the nation’s capital –

and we wait out this season’s roll of the dice in the belly of the storm,

and send up a psalm about saving for all those with a hard rowing – drivers on plows and ambulances, linemen (and women) on poles, those who sleep the night in the airport, or serve in hospital, nursing home, and shelter,

the mother whose baby comes, and the family gathered around someone who is hearing the last –